


Worth The Wait

by steveandbucky



Series: in any version of reality [19]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Background Relationships, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Dancing, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Smut, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveandbucky/pseuds/steveandbucky
Summary: Newly-single Steve finds himself stuck with an expensive series of cooking classes and is reluctant to go alone. His problem is solved when Sam suggests that he asks out his cute neighbor from across the hall, Bucky. In which there are cooking shenanigans, a lot of flirting, being mistaken for a couple, rooftop picnics,  a couple cosplay, and two idiots who fall in love.





	

 

“Come on, Sam, _please._ ”

Sam won’t budge. “Forget about it,” he says around a mouthful of prawn crackers, so it sounds more like _“Fuggetaboutit.”_

“What the hell kind of best friend doesn’t go to a couple’s cooking class with a recently dumped single best friend, huh?”

“The kind with a girlfriend he intends to keep around.”

“Pft, Maria won’t mind!” Steve prods on, reaching out to poke him with his foot.

Sam shoots him a glare and says nothing, then turns his attention back to the game on the TV.

“I can’t just go on my own, it’s too sad, _please_.” Steve’s voice is bordering on whiny; his mouth is turned into a pitiful pout, and he looks absolutely miserable, curled up to himself on the couch with his arms crossed against his chest.

“Why d’ya have to go anyway?” Sam takes a sip of his beer and signals for Steve to pass him another from the cooler that’s next to the couch. “Just cancel or something.”

“I can’t cancel,” Steve grabs a beer for himself too, and pouts some more. “Well, I can, but it’s non-refundable, and that’s 520 bucks down the drain!”

Sam lets out a low whistle. “520 bucks? Really?”

“Yeah, and it’s all coming out of my savings account!”

“Ouch.” Sam grimaces, for once showing empathy. “Can’t believe she made you sign up and then dumped you. What a bitch.”

Steve’s scowl deepens, though it’s directed at his ex-girlfriend, Charlotte, who he now hates with the power of a thousand burning suns. And yes, he may have borrowed that phrase from one of his favourite characters from _10 Things I Hate About You_ , but it perfectly describes how he feels about Charlotte. Plus, he’s always sort of related to Kat Stratford; the character reminds him of his teenage self.

“Look man, why don’t you use this as an opportunity to have some ‘you’ time,” Sam says, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. “I know the breakup has been hard on you-”

Steve interrupts him with a long-suffering groan.

“-but this might be good for you. God knows you need the lessons anyway, you can’t cook to save your life.”

“Hey!” Steve protested half-heartedly. He knows it’s true, and the reason why his ex insisted on the lessons, but still. Low blow.

Sam raises an eyebrow at him and Steve shrugs kind of pathetically. “I just can’t stand the thought of being the single guy in a room full of couples, okay?” he mumbles.

Sam nods slowly, then perks up when he gets an idea. “Hey, why don’t you ask your neighbor who lives across the hall from you?”

Steve frowns in confusion. “Who, Bucky?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I... I barely know him.”

“So?” Sam grins that delightful grin of his. “Good way to get to know him. Come on, I know you think he’s cute.”

“ _Sam_.”

“Bet he thinks you’re cute, too.”

Steve groans loudly and covers his face with a pillow to hide his embarrassment as his cheeks heat up, flooding with colour.

“Come on, get up,” Sam gets to his feet and walks to pull Steve from the couch. “You’re doing this.”

“Noooo!”

“Get your ass up, Rogers!” Sam raises his voice, but there’s no real heat behind it, in fact Steve detects a teasing hint to it. “Don’t make me call your ma!”

Steve finally yields and allows Sam to pull him up by his arms and push him towards the front door, urging him to “Go, go, go!”

Steve turns around right as Sam’s about to open the door and glares at him. “Fine, okay, just-” he glances down at himself, his too-worn sweatpants and oversized hoodie and shifts from foot to foot. “At least let me get changed into something less homeless-hobo-y.”

Sam barks out a laugh and steps aside to let Steve go get changed. “Atta boy!” he calls after him, and Steve flips him off as he disappears into the hallway.

Once Steve gets a better look of himself in the mirror, he decides to take a quick shower, because he hasn’t taken one all day and his hair is starting to look greasy and gross. He changes into a nicer pair of jeans and a well-fitting grey t-shirt and tells himself he just wants to look presentable, because he’s about to ask his neighbour for a weird favour.

Sam lets out a wolf-whistle when he sees him and shouts out, “Go get him, tiger!” and Steve flails his arms trying to shush him because _he might hear you, Sam, keep your voice down!_

Finally, he finds himself in front of his neighbour’s door and he takes a deep breath to ready himself before he raises his hand and knocks.

Moments later the door swings open and there’s Bucky, with his soft-looking, tousled brown hair and warm eyes that travel over Steve’s body, eyeing him from head to toe. “Hey, Steve,” he greets him with a tilt of his head and a grin, leaning on the doorframe.

And okay, Steve may have already figured out that there is no straight bone in this man’s body. Which makes what he’s about to ask of him that much more awkward.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve gives him a smile. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m doing okay,” Bucky’s grin softens. “What brings you all the way down the hall? You need a cup of sugar or somethin’?”

Steve bites on his lower lip. “Something like that,” he mumbles. “I’m here to ask for a weird favour.”

“Shoot,” Bucky straightens up and steps aside. “Hey, you wanna come in? So we’re not just standing in the hallway?”

Steve nods and walks in after Bucky, closing the door behind him. He’s never been inside Bucky’s apartment before, and he takes a moment to scan his surroundings quickly, check out his neighbor’s place. It’s smaller than his place, but rather cosy, looking warm and welcoming. Bucky offers him a beer and flops down on the plush looking sofa, and gestures with his hand for Steve to take a seat.

“So what can I help you with, neighbor?”

“Uh,” Steve runs a hand through his hair and rubs at his neck. “I’m kinda looking for someone to go to these cooking lessons with me.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up and Steve feels himself flushing. “It’s this series of ten classes that I was sorta pressured into signing up for, and it cost a shitload and it’s non-refundable so I really don’t wanna waste that money and I really don’t wanna go alone,” he rambles nervously and then stops and takes a deep breath. “It’s a couple’s cooking class,” he adds with a slight grimace.

“Oh,” Bucky says, a small, knowing smile curling up at the corners of his mouth. “And you don’t have a significant other to go with?”

Steve shakes his head. “She sort of dumped me after making me sign up for them.”

“Yikes,” Bucky winces sympathetically. “And you don’t wanna go to a couple’s class all by yourself. I get it.”

“Yeah,” the blond sighs. “I tried to convince my friend to go with me but he’s refusing.”

“Well, his loss is my gain.”

Steve nods then sits up a little, eyes widening, not sure if he heard right. “Wait...so you’ll go with me?”

“Hell yeah!” Bucky cracks a grin. “Free cooking lessons, free food...why the hell not, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, shoulders slumping with relief. “It’s on Monday evenings, at six. That work for you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky pulls his phone out and adds a reminder in his calendar. A moment later he pockets his phone and smiles up at Steve. “See you on Monday then, huh?”

Steve takes that as his cue to leave, so he gets up. “Yeah, see you then.”

“Hey, you wanna hang out, or go grab a bite?” Bucky says as he walks up to him.

Looking at those plush, pink lips, and the pair of bright blue eyes peering at him through thick eyelashes, Steve is tempted to say yes and spend the rest of the night just looking at Bucky and talking to him. Instead he tells Bucky that his friend is waiting for him back at his place, tells him he’s looking forward to Monday, and thanks him for doing him the favour.

“No, thank _you_ ,” Bucky winks at him, and Steve turns around to get one last glimpse before he disappears down the hallway and into his own apartment.

  


~~

  


Monday cannot come fast enough. Steve’s distracted thinking about it, and everyone around him can tell, including _his students,_ who bug him about it until Steve gives them a half-true explanation, and then proceed to tease him about it for the whole week. Come Monday there’s new gossip about two senior students getting caught doing the dirty in the music room, and they leave Steve alone, thankfully.

Sam, on the other hand, is not as nice, having enlisted Natasha’s help in giving Steve shit about it. Throughout the day he gets text like _“What are you gonna wear for your hot date?”_ (Sam) and _“Are you gonna bring him flowers?”_ (Sam) and finally, _“Remember not to eat too much. Eating before exercise is a bad idea. The exercise being the hot sex you’re gonna have with Bucky, obviously.”_ (Natasha)

Steve turns his phone off after that.

He gets to the rec centre where the classes are being held earlier than he needs to and spends some time pacing around, trying to look casual instead of nervous as hell. As 6 o’clock draws closer, other people start appearing, waiting around outside the classroom. Steve spots three suburban-looking middle aged couples, a young man and woman who have no reservations about showing excessive PDA to their classmates, and two women who he initially thinks may be just friends until he sees the blonde pressing a quick kiss to the brunette’s smiling mouth.

Bucky arrives with only a minute to spare, dressed in a casual shirt and pair of jeans and panting slightly. “Hey,” he sidles up to Steve and gives him a sheepish smile. “Am I late?”

The doors of the classroom open just then and a young woman with long brown hair allows them to walk inside.

“Just in time,” Steve smiles at Bucky and spreads his arm out, gesturing for Bucky to go inside before he follows.

As luck would have it, being the last ones in, they get one of the counters at the very front of the room. Occupying the counter to their right is the female couple. One of them catches Steve’s eye and mouths ‘good luck’, giving him a kind smile.

Steve’s about to respond when Bucky leans close to him and whispers, “Is that our instructor?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out, head spinning as he gets a waft of Bucky’s cologne, a deep, rich scent.

“She looks like she’s 16.”

Steve rolls his eyes, shooting him a grin. “She’s 18, and she was one of the teen winners on _Chopped_.”

Bucky gasps in awe. “Holy shit.”

“She also has excellent hearing,” says a female, slightly accented voice, and their instructor turns around, shooting an amused smile at the pair, who both blush and look down at their shoes, like a couple of schoolboys being caught red-handed.

“Hello everyone, welcome to our class. I’m Wanda Maximoff, and I will be your guide through this little adventure,” she grins widely, waggling her fingers in an endearing, almost adorable way. “So how this works is, we meet every week and make a meal from scratch, using fresh ingredients, and my personalised recipes. Since it’s a beginners class, we’ll be doing easy meals, so I hope no one is nervous.”

Wanda talks them through the basics of how the class works, and then introduces herself a little more, before she goes around the room asking everyone to say a little bit about themselves. Steve really hates that part, can feel every eye in the room on him as he speaks, which only makes him even more nervous and he sounds like an awkward idiot even to his own ears. He’s infinitely grateful when Bucky swoops in and takes over, and Steve can’t help but smile at him. Bucky winks in response, making his stomach swoop in entirely different ways.

“Okay, let’s begin, then,” Wanda says, taking her place behind the big counter in the front of the room, where everyone can see her. “For our first lesson, we will be making a classic pasta dish, something I hope everyone likes: spaghetti bolognese.”

There’s a few cheers and whoops from the room and Wanda lets out a soft laugh before she starts the lesson. She walks them through the first steps, explaining everything slowly and carefully, even patiently repeating the instructions when someone asks her to.

It’s a lot easier than Steve expected it would be. They’re supposed to work together with their partners, cooperating and talking to each other as they work so that everything goes smoothly. When Steve struggles with chopping the goddamn onions, his eyes filling with tears, as expected, Bucky helps him out, taking over for a while. By the end of the task, the whole room is in tears, and there’s laughter and sniffles being heard every now and again. The rest of the prep goes over more smoothly. Chopping tomatoes, mincing garlic, cutting up some fresh herbs. Steve starts boiling the water for the pasta while Bucky browns the meat in a separate pan.

“Man, I think this is the first time I’ve used so many pans for one fucking meal,” Bucky grumbles next to him, frowning at the meat as he stirs it.

Steve snorts a laugh. “Yeah, tell me about it. I don’t really cook that often, to be honest.”

“Me neither, I’m shit at it.” Bucky mumbles.

Wanda’s voice interrupts them. “How are things over here then?” she says as she approaches their station, the last one she checks upon after making her way around the entire room.

“Good, great!” Steve grins brightly at her before he tries to add salt to the pasta water.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Wanda stops him. “You must wait for the water to boil before you add the salt.”

“Is that when it starts making the little bubbles?” Bucky asks, making her laugh heartily.

“Yes, exactly. I see you’ve been paying attention.”

“Of course,” Bucky beams, almost proudly.

“Good. Let me know if you need help with anything,” Wanda smiles at him. “And keep an eye on this one,” she teases, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, nodding her head towards Steve.

Steve ducks his head and blushes, and Bucky knocks his shoulder to Steve’s, grinning at him. “You alright? You look like you’re about to combust.”

“I’m a blusher, give me a break,” Steve mumbles under his breath, and Bucky snickers quietly.

“Now,” Wanda says as she takes her place back at her own counter. “The most important part about cooking, and something you will hear me say very frequently: tasting your food. Tasting it constantly while you cook will tell you whether it needs more salt, more spice, more flavour, and you can make any adjustments necessary to make it perfect. So come on, taste your marinara sauce, feed your partners, see how it’s coming along.”

Bucky does as he’s told grabbing a spoon and dipping into the tomato sauce, blowing on it a little to cool it before he brings it up to his mouth and tastes it. He makes a small humming sound, eyebrows knitting together in thought. Steve just stands there, watching him.

Bucky dips his spoon back in the pot and offers it to Steve this time. “Here, you try it.”

Steve swallows thickly, looking at the spoon he’s being offered, and leans forward, allowing Bucky to feed him. He licks his lips and nods. “It’s good,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

Bucky’s staring him right in the eye. “Yeah?” he asks, just as quietly.

Steve can’t speak his mouth is so dry. He simply nods and clears his throat and turns to check the water, finding that it’s finally boiling and he can add the salt and the pasta to it.

The rest of the lesson goes smoothly - if you don’t count the part where Steve almost overcooks the spaghetti and gets chastised by Wanda, who tells him, _“We want it to be al dente, Steve.”_ In his defense, Bucky adds the meat to the sauce earlier than he should, and smiles sheepishly when their instructor explains to him why that’s a bad idea.

At the end, Wanda goes around tasting everyone’s dishes and praises them for a job well done. “Well, that’s it for tonight! Good job everyone, I’m very proud of all the delicious pastas you made. Now you can wrap up your food and take it home with you, light some candles and enjoy it with your partners. Don’t forget the parmesan cheese and a bottle of red wine. I hope to see you all next week!”

As they head out, Bucky turns to him and says, “I don’t have any candles, but I do have all three Men in Black DVDs if you wanna come over and enjoy the meal we’ve made together.”

“Sounds good.” Steve grins at him.

An hour later, Steve finds himself on Bucky’s couch pleasantly full of pasta and sipping expensive red wine from Wanda’s list of recommendations that Bucky had insisted on buying. He’d said it’s the least he can do since Steve’s paying for all the lessons and Steve admitted he had a point, so he didn’t push it. Steve also didn’t inform Bucky that he couldn’t tell $70 dollar quality wine from the boxed, $5 dollar kind because he didn’t want to look stupid, but he was a whiskey kind of guy through and through.

“So what’s the deal with your ex?” Bucky asks just as the first movie’s finishing.

Steve turns his head to look at him. “Hmm?” he hums. He’s a little sleepy, and he blames it on the carbs and the wine. “Oh, ugh,” he grimaces, and Bucky laughs a little.

“You don’t have to tell me, I’m just a nosy bastard.”

Steve grins. “Not much to say. We dated for a year, she made me sign up for expensive cooking classes and then went ahead and dumped me like the awful person that she is.”

“No offense but she really does sound awful. She didn’t offer to pay for her half at least?”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, right, that sounds like her.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, voice quiet, and the sincerity of it makes Steve turn to look at him again. His eyes are kind and his mouth looks soft and warm and…inviting.

Steve shakes the thoughts off and sits up a little straighter. “Don’t be. It was for the best, honestly, we just fought all the fucking time.”

“Well, then, I’m sorry you ever met her.”

It’s so abrupt that Steve barks out a laugh, throwing his head back and bringing a hand up to clutch at his chest as he giggles. Bucky joins him, laughing along with him. They quiet down a long while later and fall into a comfortable silence.

“Thanks,” Steve says moments later.

Bucky turns and catches his eye and smiles at him. “You’re welcome.”

Steve heads home after that, since it’s nearly midnight and he’s got a six am start the following day. Bucky looks almost sad when he sees him to the door and wishes him a good night, and Steve is so tempted to grab him by the front of his t-shirt and close the gap between them by pressing their mouths together.

Instead he gives Bucky a dorky little salute, making him laugh, and turns on his heel to head back to his apartment.

  


~~

  


“Bucky, you’re not helping!”

“Oh my God, you’re so terrible at this!”

“Shut _up_!”

Bucky keeps giggling uncontrollably as he’s helping Steve spoon out tiny little pieces of eggshell from the bowl. Steve was in charge of breaking the eggs, and he did a wonderfully terrible job at it.

“I’m _nervous_ , okay?” he mumbles under his breath, so no one else but Bucky will hear him. He’s embarrassed enough already because everyone’s turned to look at them at one point or another, some pairs giving them judgemental eyes.

Bucky pokes him in the ribs. “It’s just eggs, relax. It’s not like Gordon Ramsay’s about to show up and start yelling at you.”

“Oh, God,” Steve feels a sudden dread in his stomach.

“Shit, I was kidding!” Bucky cries out, eyes widening. “Oh shit, I made it worse didn’t I?”

Steve turns his head to shoot him a glare. “How about I cut the mushrooms and you break the eggs, yes?”

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully but they switch places and take over each other’s tasks. Steve tries to focus on the task at hand, careful so that he doesn’t accidentally cut his finger, like he did last week. He’d sent everyone in the room in a slight panic, what with Wanda having left the room for a few minutes, until the woman from the counter next to them had introduced herself as Angie, told him she’s a nurse, and helped him dress the wound. Steve had been exceptionally grumpy throughout the whole thing, grumbling that _it’s just a small cut, guys_ , while Bucky scolded him and teased him that he was gonna look out for any more fingers in his dinner that night.

Either way, Steve wishes to make it through their third lesson without drawing any more attention from his classmates, but Bucky is making it very hard for him, given how loud he’s being.

“You boys alright over there?” asks Peggy, peering over her wife’s shoulder to check up on them.

Bucky gives her a thumbs up and assures her everything’s okay, and Angie pipes up with “You sure? No injuries of any kind?”

“Injuries?” Wanda asks, concerned, as she makes her way over to their counter.

“No, no, we’re all good!” Steve straightens up and tries to smile reassuringly.

Wands nods at him and moves along. “Now, the beauty of the frittata,” she says she she walks from one counter to the other. “Is that you can add anything you want to it. If you’re not a big fan of one of the ingredients in this recipe, you can choose to not include it. If there’s anything else you’d like to add, there’s plenty of ingredients in the fridge and in the pantry, so go ahead and mix things up as you wish!”

“Steve?” Bucky asks, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

Steve turns to face him, eyes wide with worry. “Yeah?”

“I really, really hate peas.” Bucky pouts.

Steve snorts a laugh, caught by surprise. “You wanna go check the fridge, don’t you?”

“Yes, please,” Bucky grins at him, and fuck, how can Steve say no to that?

Bucky returns with chorizo, extra cheddar cheese, and a bright, happy grin on his face, raising a hand to request a high-five. Steve rolls his eyes but obliges anyway.

In the end they manage to make something that’s not only decent but goddamn delicious. Even Wanda admits that it’s tasty and congratulates them for daring to mix things up, to which Steve asks, “Was that a test?”

She laughs and says, “Of course not! There are no tests in my lessons, I just want you to learn how to cook.”

Bucky teases him about it when they eat their meal out of the tupperware with two forks, not bothering to reheat it or get plates out. It’s more fun like that, anyway, sitting opposite each other in Steve’s kitchen table, talking and laughing and eating until they’re way too full.

“Damn, that was delicious.” Bucky says as he gets to his feet and stretches. His t-shirt rides up, revealing tanned skin and a trail of dark curly hair that disappears under the band of his underwear, and Steve catches himself staring.

“Though I’m so full I think I might slip into a food coma.”

“Told ya the garlic bread was a bad idea.”

“Steve,” Bucky stares at him, scandalized. “It’s garlic bread. It’s n _ever_ a bad idea.”

They settle on the couch like they usually do after their cooking lessons and Steve starts flipping through the channels to find something decent for them to watch.

“So what _can_ you actually make?” Bucky asks, a teasing hint to his voice, knocking his knee to Steve’s. “Hardboiled eggs?”

Steve shoots him a look, raising an eyebrow and smirking a little before he turns back to the TV screen, settling on a nature documentary because he’s a huge nerd and actually likes documentaries, okay?

“For your information, my apple pie is to die for.” Steve declares, jutting his chin out.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. It’s my mom’s recipe, and it’s delicious.”

Bucky breathes out a soft laugh. “You gotta make it for me sometime, then. Won’t believe it till I try it.”

Steve snorts. “I’d like to see _you_ try something of that caliber.”

“Okay, I love seeing you brag, really,” Bucky says. “But it’s _apple pie_. It’s nothing too complicated. It’s not, say...the perfect chocolate chip cookies.”

“How is that in any way better than apple pie?”

Bucky shrugs in a nonchalant way and sinks into the couch a little, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Chocolate chip cookies are way harder than you think. It took me 26 tries to perfect the recipe, I’ll have you know.”

“That just proves how shit you are at cooking,” Steve retorts with a giggle.

“Steve,” Bucky says, voice suddenly serious. He turns to sit cross-legged on the couch, facing Steve, looking at him straight in the eye. “I will bake you these cookies one day and you will eat them and they will be so delicious, they’ll make you come in your pants.”

Steve chokes and splutters, blinking rapidly, while Bucky bursts into laughter, way too amused at the reaction he’s elicited from the man.

“Oh fuck off, you little shit.”

In response, Bucky just giggles harder. Then he settles down facing the TV, closer to Steve than he was before, so that their shoulders are touching and if Steve moves his leg just a bit their thighs will be pressed together, too. He feels hot all of a sudden, entire body warming up at having Bucky so close to him, stomach flipping with excitement.

“Anyway, can we watch something interesting please?” Bucky grabs the remote and starts flipping through the channels, while Steve stares at him for a moment, then leans back on the couch with a content little sigh.

  


~~

  


Saturday night finds Steve in a too-crowded night club, sipping a half-decent whisky and listening to a bad cover of a song he’s never heard of by a local band of five young guys, who, in Steve’s opinion, really need to find a better vocalist. But he’s got no plans to get up and leave, because he’s there doing a favour for Bucky, and really, he thinks he owes Bucky about fifty favours. Bucky had asked him earlier that day, saying he doesn’t want to go alone because he’s trying to avoid a particularly douchey ex-boyfriend of his, and of course Steve immediately agreed.

Bucky is currently at the bar, ordering them another round of drinks, and talking to - possibly flirting with? - the bartender. Steve is only a little jealous that the man has occupied Bucky’s attention for the past quarter of an hour, and Steve’s been left by himself at their corner table.

He finally returns with two glasses in his hands and an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry about that,” he says, sliding one glass to Steve. “Thanks for coming with me tonight.”

“It’s no problem, really,”

“To you!” Bucky toasts, raising his drink.

Steve chuckles and clinks his glass to Bucky’s then takes a sip. Just then, the band announces that their set is over and there’s a round of loud applause in the club. Bucky throws his head back with a groan, saying “Oh thank fuck,” and making Steve laugh.

“So that’s not your friend’s band then?”

“God no,” Bucky shakes his head. He shifts closer to Steve and leans in a little so he can be heard over the music. “Jim’s band is next, they’re much better, I promise.”

“I hope so,” Steve mumbles, somewhat distracted by the dizzying smell of Bucky’s cologne, eyes drawn to the top few buttons of his top which are undone, revealing a dark fuzz of chest hair. Steve wants to bury his face in it.

“Hey,” Bucky says then, snapping him out of his daydream, which, rude. Daydream-Steve was _this_ close to pulling that shirt off Daydream-Bucky.

Steve snaps his head up to meet Bucky’s gaze, instantly mesmerised by those ice-blue eyes, shining in the nightclub lights.

“You wanna dance? I love this song,” Bucky says, already getting up from his seat as the first few tunes of the song Steve recognises as _Supermassive Black Hole_ start playing. “Come on,” Bucky holds his hand out and Steve takes it without protest, allows him to guide him to the dancefloor and shushes the part of his brain that starts panicking.

Bucky spins him around and then they’re face to face and Steve’s stood there watching him, slightly stunned. Bucky’s swinging his hips, mouthing the lyrics as he dances, a dangerous, mischievous twinkle in his eye. He puts his hands on Steve’s hips and tells him to _‘Come on, move your ass!’_ and Steve starts swaying with him, though he’s nowhere near as smooth as Bucky is on the dancefloor, his lean, lithe body moving in an entrancing, almost sensual way. He swings his arms around Steve’s neck loosely and shifts closer to him, and Steve can’t help but grab onto Bucky’s hips, swaying in rhythm with him while also trying to will his dick to go back to sleep.

They’re too close, their faces are too close. It’d be so easy to lean in just a little and press his mouth to Bucky’s. The way Bucky’s looking at him makes Steve think he wants to do the same.

Then Bucky actually spins around and presses his back to Steve’s chest, and his _ass_ to Steve’s _crotch_ and Steve thinks he might actually pass out. Bucky’s dancing, seemingly oblivious to Steve’s internal turmoil and Steve sways with him because what else is he gonna do? Pick him up and pin him to the nearest wall and fuck him senseless? Bucky throws his head back, resting it on Steve’s shoulder, eyes closed and looking like he’s in ecstasy, lost in the music and Steve barely bites back the growl that threatens to escape his mouth, almost lets himself lean down and press his lips to Bucky’s neck, thinks to himself, what’s the worst that could happen?

The song is over too soon. Bucky detaches himself from Steve, much to the latter’s disappointment, and nods towards the bar before he starts walking towards that direction. He orders them another round.

A few more songs play before the next band comes on and Bucky cheers for them as loudly as possible, even sticking his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and letting out a loud whistle, making Steve laugh.

“Is that your ex, the drummer?” Steve asks, leaning to speak close to Bucky’s ear.

Bucky cringes. “You can tell he’s a douchebag just by looking at him, can’t you?”

“Kinda yeah,” Steve teases and earns a nudge in his ribs in response. “Is there a story there?”

“Nah,” Bucky says, picking up his beer to take a sip, lips wrapping around the rim of the bottle almost sinfully, and Steve has to avert his gaze. “He’s just annoying. I dumped his ass three years ago and still every time he sees me, he tries to start things up again. Last time, he tried to grab my ass and I sorta punched him in the face. So I brought you with me for backup,” Bucky winks at him.

Steve lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Good choice. I’ve got a mean right hook.”

“I bet you do.” Bucky grins at him, and God, his smile is so beautiful. _He_ is so beautiful. “No, but, honestly...I don’t think he’ll come anywhere near me. I mean, have you _seen_ you?”

Steve glances down at himself as Bucky gestures at him with a hand, a blush colouring his cheeks pink. “No?”

Bucky barks out a laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he giggles. “You’re built like a brick house! Come on, you’re like my personal bodyguard.”

“And here I thought you actually enjoyed my company,” Steve says with a playful roll of his eyes.

“No, I do enjoy your company. Really.”

Steve’s eyes flick down to where Bucky’s wrapped a warm hand around his wrist, then back up to meet Bucky’s gaze, the sincerity in his eyes making him shiver. “Me too,” he mumbles, too quietly for Bucky to really hear under the loud music, but then Bucky beams at him, a small, honest smile and turns his attention back to the band and Steve lets out a long breath.

He is so gone on this man it’s not even funny.

They stay for a few more songs before Bucky asks him if he wants to call it a night, and they end up walking home together, hands tucked in their pockets and elbows brushing together occasionally. Steve doesn’t want the night to end. He’s perfectly happy to stay up till morning talking to Bucky about everything and nothing at all, so he’s more than thrilled when Bucky invites him to his apartment for one last drink. He’s not sure if the invitation has a hidden meaning behind it, like when women often invite him back to their place for ‘a cup of coffee’ at the end of a date, but Steve’s pleasantly buzzed, drunk enough that he thinks if Bucky does make a move, he’ll just go along with it. What’s there to stop him anyway?

‘One last drink’ ends up becoming ‘a whole bottle of scotch’ shared between the two of them, while they sit in the darkness of Bucky’s living room on opposite ends of the couch, talking in whispers and making bad jokes and laughing like a couple of schoolchildren with no care in the world.

It’s one of the best nights of Steve’s life, even if, instead of naked in Bucky’s bed, he ends up falling asleep on the couch, and wakes up to find a soft blanket covering him and a good-morning note that Bucky has left him before heading out to get them donuts for breakfast.

  


~~

  


Steve ends up missing their fourth cooking lesson because he comes down with a terrible cold which makes him a miserable, feverish mess with a sniffling nose and glassy eyes and a permanent grumpy frown fixed on his face. Bucky shows up at his door with chicken soup from his favourite deli and a pharmacy bag with cough drops, antipyretics, and a handful of classic Disney movies.

“You mentioned you were a fan?”

Steve thinks he might burst out in tears. Bucky spends the rest of the day with him, nursing him back to health and watching old cartoons with him, and it makes Steve less grumpy, even when Bucky scolds him for trying to get up from his cocoon of blankets on the couch.

“I have to pee, you asshole!”

“Oh,” Bucky sits back down, looking sheepish. “In that case I’ll allow it. If you’re not back in ten I’m gonna barge in to make sure you haven’t passed out in there.”

“Ha ha.”

Thanks to Bucky (or so the brunet claims), Steve is feeling well enough to attend their fifth lesson, and the two of them show up to class a whole lot earlier than they need to. Thankfully, they’re not the only couple who is early.

“Steve, Bucky!” Peggy greets them with a bright smile. “Missed you last week.”

“Steve here was sick,” Bucky says, gesturing to the blonde.

Angie nods slowly. “Another cooking injury?” she asks, deadpan.

Bucky and Peggy laugh while Steve rolls his eyes, though he’s struggling to bite back a grin. “That was _one_ time!”

“Yeah, so far,” Bucky teases, poking him.

“Well, I for one am glad you’re well and present,” Peggy says. “It’s no fun without you.”

“Yes, it’s just not the same when you don’t have to worry about the unsupervised gay couple burning the place to the ground.” Angie adds, voice dripping with sarcasm, making her partner laugh, though she tries to cover it with a cough.

Bucky protest with a cry of “Hey!” while Steve turns a bright shade of scarlet and stammers out, “We’re not a couple.”

That’s met with a pair of unimpressed looks.

Bucky smiles a little and nods. “Yeah, we’re just friends,” he says, tucking his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

Peggy turns to Angie and they share a knowing looking, exchanging a small, secretive smile.

“Of course,” Peggy says in her clipped British accent. “Just friends.”

“We’re married,” Angie informs them, looping her arm through Peggy’s, though that’s something they’ve already made known. “But only platonically,” she adds, throwing in a wink.

Peggy stifles a laugh, while Steve just wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Thankfully, Wanda appears just then and opens the doors for them, and slowly the classroom starts filling with the other couples until everyone is present and Wanda can start the lesson. She tells them they’ll be glad they’re present for the current session and informs them they will be making brownies this evening.

Steve hears Bucky celebrate with a quiet little ‘Yay!’ under his breath and it makes him fall a little bit in love with the man. Just a little bit.

They work together to melt the butter, sugar, and cocoa powder together, using the easy double-boiling method, as demonstrated by their instructor. It’s not a hard task, and Bucky stirs the mixture occasionally while Steve watches him work, half-listening to Wanda telling them to add a pinch of salt and explaining the importance of it.

“Hey, uh,” Steve whispers, shifting closer to Bucky. “Sorry about the misunderstanding earlier.”

“Hm?” Bucky looks up from the pot to meet Steve’s gaze.

“You know, with Peggy and Angie and the whole-”

“Oh,” Bucky waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure everyone here mistook us for a couple, anyway.”

Steve frowns. “Really?”

“It’s a _couple’s_ cooking class, Steve. My God, you’re dense sometimes.”

“Hey,” Steve pokes him in the ribs, causing Bucky to jump up a little, startled.

“Don’t do that!” he hisses. “I’m incredibly ticklish.”

A slow grin stretches across Steve’s face before he reaches out and pokes Bucky repeatedly, causing him to burst into giggles and jump away from Steve’s reach. Steve’s about to attack him again when he hears Wanda clearing her throat and he spins around to face her, embarrassed about his behaviour. There is something about her that he finds intimidating, even though she’s half his size and a decade his junior, and honestly, she really is lovely. Most of the time. Not when she catches you in the middle of a tickle war during her class, though.

“Everything alright over here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky flashes her a charming grin. “Just melting our chocolate.”

“It looks like it’s ready,” Wanda says, dipping her pinky finger into the pot to taste it. Her hands are bare of any nail polish or rings and bracelets, which is unusual for her, but she abides by strict hygiene rules, as she told them in their first session. “You remember the next steps, yes?”

“Uh, add the flour?” Steve stammers.

Wanda shakes her head. “Eggs first. Pay attention, Steven.”

“Yes, ma’am,”

Once she’s out of hearing shot, Bucky turns to Steve and says, “Did Mommy tell you off, Stevie?”

In retaliation, Steve picks up a pinch of flour from one of the bowls and throws it to Bucky’s general direction, giggling when some of it lands on his nose.

Wanda kicks them out of the classroom for a time-out. The flour handprints on Bucky's ass seem to be the final straw.

“Steve!” Bucky throws his arms up in exasperation.

“What?”

“This is all your fault, you ass!”

Steve crosses his arms and juts his chin out. “You provoked me. I acted in self-defense.”

“Self-doofus, you mean.”

“Wow, sick burn. You stayed up all night thinking of that?”

“Steve, shut _up,_  oh my God.”

All that does is make Steve giggle uncontrollably, clutching his stomach and doubling over laughing. Bucky shoves him, hard and makes him go apologise to Wanda so she’ll let them go back and continue their brownies recipe. Wanda allows them to come inside, reminding them that this is an _adult_ cooking class.

“I have to say, I’ve been kicked out of class before, but never by someone who was ten years younger than me,” Steve comments while stirring the flour into their brownie mixture.

“Oh God,” Bucky grumbles. “That just makes it so much worse. Just keep your mouth shut.”

Steve pretends to zip his lips and throws the imaginary key in their batter, making Bucky roll his eyes at him.

Despite all their shenanigans, the brownies come out looking _and_ tasting pretty delicious. They stop at the supermarket on their way home and Bucky offers to pop in and buy Häagen-Dazs Vanilla ice cream because Steve lets it slip that it’s his favourite.

“Wow, Steve,” Bucky had deadpanned. “Can’t get more _vanilla_ than that.”

Steve had pretended to swat at him with a spatula, and even though Bucky ducked from the attack, he wasn’t in any real danger.

Still, he returns from the store with two tubs of the ice cream and gets in the car through the passenger side door. “Don’t give me that look. They were on offer! I almost bought another cookies n’ cream tub, if I’m being totally honest.”

Steve just laughs and starts the ignition to drive them home, looking forward to settling on his or Bucky’s couch and eating his weight in sugar and fat. They get through the entire pan of brownies and the first tub of ice cream in under an hour while watching old _Parks and Rec_ reruns on TV.

“Oh my God,” Bucky groans, collapsing on one end of the couch with his head thrown over the armrest and clutching his stomach. “I am so full I think I might explode. _Steve._  Why did you let me eat so much?”

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Steve lifts his head to look at him from where he’s sprawled on his very comfortable loveseat. It’s the kind that’s so soft you just sink into it and Steve thinks he might never get up. “I was too busy slipping into a food coma.”

“Steve,” Bucky giggles and lifts up his shirt to reveal the smooth, bare skin of his abdomen. “Look at this, I’m gonna have a food baby.”

“What’re you gonna name it?” Steve actually pushes himself to his feet only to fall on the couch, next to Bucky.

Bucky rubs his stomach, humming thoughtfully. “I think...first name I Regret, middle name, Everything.”

Steve snorts a giggle and before he can think twice about it, he reaches over and puts his hand on Bucky’s stomach, rubbing it slowly. “Aw, I can feel it kicking!” he cooes.

Bucky bursts into laughter, and Steve can feel his belly shaking with the force of it and can’t help but laugh with him. They quiet down eventually and Bucky wipes his tears away and meets Steve’s gaze, whose smile slips away when he feels Bucky’s palm covering over his own hand, fingers twining together.

Looking at Bucky, Steve sees no amusement in his eyes, but a growing heat. He’s half-leaning over him; it would be so easy to lean down all the way and...and…

There’s a loud bang as Steve shifts a little and his foot knocks the brownies pan over and they both jump up, startled, wondering where the source of the noise is.

The moment is ruined. If there even was a moment to begin with.

  


~~

  


It happens on a Saturday morning between the sixth and seventh session, when Bucky drags Steve out of his comfy bed and into the cold March air so they can go have breakfast at the bakery down the road because _their blueberry muffins are to die for, Steve._

Steve quits his grumbling as soon as he takes the first sip of his coffee, eyes closed in ecstasy and humming appreciatively - maybe a little too much because it makes Bucky snort in laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there, Steve?”

Steve ducks his head and tells himself it’s the coffee that’s making him feel too hot.

“Why’re you being so grouchy? I’m buying you breakfast, aren’t I?” Bucky grins. “You’re up at the ass crack of dawn to go running every other day. _Running,_  Steve.”

“Running is good for you.”

“But at _what cost_?” Bucky whines overdramatically, making Steve laugh at him and then, with a waggle of his eyebrows, asks. “Late night last night?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nothing like that,” he says, face heating up again. “I was helping a friend look for apartments online. It was a nightmare.”

“Oh a _friend,_  eh?”

“Oh my God, Bucky, no. She’s a friend, not a _friend_ friend. She’s moving in with _her_ friend-friend, actually.”

Bucky’s still smiling at him, all kinds of mischief in his grin. “Well, okay. So you’re not seeing anyone right now?”

Steve’s heart flutters in his chest. Could it be that Bucky is... _interested_ in him? He tries to contain himself and only gives a small, shy smile in return when he says, “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

To his surprise, Bucky responds with, “Aw, boo!” and it throws him off completely.

“What?”

“You gotta get back out there!” Bucky urges on. He reaches out towards their shared plate and grabs a danish pastry roll, taking a big bite out of it. “Plenty of fish in the sea, all that crap.”

Steve snorts. “You sound like my friend Natasha. She even downloaded a bunch of dating apps on my phone to try and find me someone.”

“You don’t say,”

Steve can see it, the moment the idea forms in Bucky’s head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He jumps up where he’s slumped in the comfy, cushioned seat in an effort to get to his phone before Bucky does, but he’s too slow. Bucky swallows the last of his pastry and grins at him triumphantly.

“Alright, here we go.” Bucky swipes his thumb across the screen and unlocks the security pattern, which baffles Steve for a moment, because how the hell does Bucky know it. “Ooh,” Bucky cocks his head to the side as he thumbs through Steve’s apps. “You’ve got a good... _variety_ here.”

And. Well. Steve hasn’t exactly mentioned his interest in men to Bucky...yet. It hadn’t exactly _come up,_ okay? Which is why he’s now blushing to his ears and rubbing his neck awkwardly while he mumbles out a quiet, “Yeah, uh, I’m bisexual.”

Bucky grins at him, looking far too amused. “I guessed as much.”

Steve rolls his eyes and reaches out to grab his phone from Bucky’s hands, but the latter just stretches his arm way back, not letting Steve take it from him.

“Come on, I’m tryna help you here, pal.”

Steve very nearly says, “You could help me by going on a date with me,” only he chickens out and sits down while Bucky opens a dating app for gay men and starts looking through Potential Candidates. His words, not the app’s.

“Alright, I found someone,” he flips the phone in his hands, showing Steve the image of a blonde, long-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard and piercing blue eyes. Steve looks at the picture for a moment and he has to admit that the man is very attractive, but he doesn’t hold his attention all that much. Not when Bucky is sitting at the table right opposite him.

“Not my type,”

Bucky raises a challenging eyebrow at him. “Really.”

This goes on for about an hour while they eat delicious, freshly baked pastries and get their coffee refills, with Bucky enthusiastically finding potential matches for Steve, and Steve just growing more and more annoyed at the fact that the man he desires is so hell-bent on setting him up with someone else. Eventually he gets up to leave, telling Bucky that he has an appointment and that he’ll see him at the rec centre on Monday.

It isn’t exactly a lie, because he does have plans to go to the gym with Nat, even though that’s not later in the day. Steve absolutely does not spend his free time moping around. He does not.

He gets to the gym earlier than he needs to and starts warming up with some stretches before he heads to the treadmills and runs at full speed until his head is spinning and his vision is blurring. Steve is taking a break and rehydrating when he sees a flash of red and Natasha appears in front of him.

“What the hell, Rogers? I thought we were supposed to spar.” She says, crossing her arms against her chest.

Steve shrugs and chugs down another bottle of water. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you down at the boxing ring, yeah?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow at him. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Were there zombies chasing you or something?”

“Or something,” he says, breathing heavily.

“You wanna take a raincheck and go get smoothies from Bruce’s?” she asks, a small smile curving her lips, expression softening.

Steve thinks about it for a moment before he nods. He really is spent, something which hasn’t happened at a while because he’s careful not to push himself past his limits.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, grabbing the hand she offers to help him get to his feet.

“You got it. And you better bring your A game, ‘cause I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

Steve laughs and starts heading towards the men’s showers, while Natasha heads out the door, telling him she’ll wait for him at the juice bar across the street. When he gets there, she’s already ordered them both the Very Berry Special Smoothie and it warms his heart a little.

“So what about these zombies of yours?” she asks after exactly six sentences of mindless chit chat and general catching up.

Steve groans, only mildly annoyed. He was expecting her to bring it up sooner or later. “Well, it’s not good news for you. Someone’s trying to give you a run for your money regarding your Get Steve Laid part-time job.”

Natasha narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Who?”

Steve drawn in a deep breath and lets it out. “The guy I like.”

“Oh, honey,” Natasha’s whole stance immediately changes, shoulders slumping and mouth twisting into a sad pout.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, picking up his drink and talking a long sip from it.

“Maybe he was testing you,” Natasha perks up. “Like trying to get you to ask him out.”

“Don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Steve shrugs again. He knows he’s got a pitiful vibe going on but he doesn’t really care. He’s allowed to be sad about it for one day, okay?

“He said he guessed that I was bi. Probably guessed that I like him and is trying to find me someone else so he won’t have to let me down?”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, and Steve takes her silence to be a confirmation of his assumptions, which, fuck. He was sort of hoping she’d somehow prove him wrong. After a long silence she speaks up again, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Have I ever told you about my work friend, Lillian?”

Steve smiles and lets her have this one. “Lip ring, right?”

 

~~

  


Monday evening finds Steve with his hands in a bowl of ground meat and that’s about as unsexy as things can get. He’s mixing the rest of the ingredients while Bucky finishes chopping up the red onions, adding them little by little until they both agree it’s enough. Wanda had encouraged them to taste the raw meat while adding the ingredients and decide with their partners if they needed to add more of anything else. Bucky had gone a little overboard with the tabasco sauce and their burger meat was turning out to be a little spicier than Steve liked.

Thankfully, Wanda overhears them bickering and suggests quite a few ways of mellowing out the flavour, so they add a bit more meat to the mix, a teaspoon of honey, and decided to top their burgers with rich cheddar cheese. The result would, of course, be delicious.

While it’s easy being back in the kitchen with Bucky, cooperating without any exaggerated antics that would disrupt the class, all the while still making jokes and poking fun at each other, once they leave the classroom, Steve starts to feel an uncomfortable kind of tension bubble between them. He’s mostly silent during the drive over to their apartment building, with Bucky making most of the conversation and Steve only replying every now and again.

When they reach their destination and get out of the car, and Steve sees the look on Bucky’s face, he immediately feels awful about his behaviour. Bucky looks like a kicked puppy, and it breaks Steve’s heart. He’s been a horrible person, acting like a butthurt teenager, like those who would be whining about being left in the friendzone, and he’s been a terrible friend. Because Bucky? Bucky is his _friend._ If he doesn’t want to be anything more, Steve has no right to hold it over him.

“Hey,” he says, bumping his shoulder to Bucky’s as they wait for the elevator.

Bucky sneaks a quick glance to him before returning his gaze to his shoes.

“Sorry about being so grumpy,” Steve tries again. “I got my ass handed to me at the gym yesterday. Word of advice: Never spar with Natasha Romanoff.”

Bucky looks at him again, a disbelieving look on his face. “That’s what got your panties in a twist?”

Steve shoves him playfully, shooting him a grin to let him know _hey, I’m okay; we’re okay._

Once in the elevator, Bucky hits the button for their floor, then tells Steve to just wait there while he ‘gets some things from his place.’ Steve does as he’s told and doesn’t ask too many questions, mainly because Bucky only tells him to be quiet and be patient. When he returns, it’s with a blanket and a six-pack of chilled beer, and a cheeky grin on his face.

“We’re dining on the roof, picnic-style. Classy, right?”

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “We don’t have access to the roof.”

“All taken care of. You’re not gonna go tell on me to the super, are you?”

“Course not.”

“Good.” Bucky grins.

Sure enough, Bucky pulls a tiny key from his jeans’ pocket and _voila_ , the door opens with a loud creak. The rooftop is nothing too impressive, but once they set the blanket down and start passing burgers and fries and beers to each other, it really feels like an impromptu picnic date somewhere in the countryside, with a clear night sky full of twinkling stars above them. Steve wills his brain to shut down those kind of thoughts because _they’re just friends dammit_ , but he can’t help it. It makes feel a little giddy, especially whenever Bucky passes him something and their hands brush, and Steve’s stomach swoops at the contact.

“You wanna know a secret?” Bucky asks later, when they’re done with their food and are just leaning back on their elbows, gazes turned towards the sky.

“Sure.”

“I had my first kiss on a rooftop.” Bucky whispers, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile.

“How romantic.”

He giggles. “Hardly. We were twelve. It was awkward.”

Steve smiles fondly. “How come it’s a secret?”

“‘Cause I kinda freaked out and pretended it never happened,” Bucky sighs. “Gay panic and all.”

“Oh.”

Bucky lies down completely, placing his hands under his head as a pillow, shielding it from the hard concrete of the roof. “You ever had that?”

Steve thinks for a moment, listening to the buzz of cars driving by, the faint chatter of passerbys. He lies down next to Bucky before he speaks. “I don’t think so. It wasn’t panic, it was just a long period of being confused about everything.”

“Fun.”

Steve snorts in response and they fall silent. Even though the city’s not quiet, there’s always noise, Steve feels a sort of serenity, being there on the rooftop with Bucky, like they’re in a secluded place, just the two of them, and for just a little while he’s got nothing else to worry about.

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky questions in a soft tone of voice much later, breaking the silence.

Steve turns his head to sneak a look at Bucky and finds him staring right back at him. He smiles then looks away. “Just that it’s nice - this.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, and removes his right hand from under his head, placing it at his side. A long moment passes before he speaks again. “In a weird way it makes me feel young again,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve feels his stomach swoop with butterflies, a wonderful mix of nervousness and excitement. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly unfolds his hands from where they were on top of his stomach, and lowers them to either side of his body, placing his left hand right next to Bucky’s right one, so close that they are touching. Bucky doesn’t attempt to move his hand away, and neither does Steve. He wonders whether Bucky can hear how fast and loud his heart is beating. He hopes not.

Steve breathes a sigh and looks at the sky, and hopes the night will never end.

  


~~

  


“Sam asked me to invite you to his birthday party,” Steve says, twirling his chopsticks in the stir fry they’d made in their eighth cooking session. It is delicious, which is no longer a surprise to Steve. He’s come to discover that he’s not as shitty a cook as he’d previously thought, as long as he pays attention to the ingredients and instructions. Of course, Wanda’s little tips and tricks of the trade have helped tremendously and Steve is a little proud of himself for the progress he’s made.

He’s also a little grateful that Charlotte made him sign up for the lessons. You know, before she went ahead and dumped him. Like the awful person she is. Really, Steve doesn’t hold much of a grudge against her for that anymore - not when he’s got Bucky now. Not that he _has_ Bucky per se, not in the way he’d want to, anyway. But he’s a better kitchen partner than Steve’s ex-girlfriend would ever have been.

Bucky, in the meantime, stabs a piece of chicken with his own pair of chopsticks and shoves it in his mouth. He’d admitted earlier, with an adorable little blush on his cheeks, that he wasn’t all that great at using the utensils. He’d never bothered to learn, not even with how frequently he eats Chinese takeout because, "There’s plenty of perfectly functional forks and knives in my kitchen drawer, Steve.” Then he’d asked Steve to show him how to use them, a small, shy smile on his face, and Steve had done so happily, all the while getting nervous butterflies in his stomach as their hands kept brushing together while he demonstrated, eventually putting his hand over Bucky’s to show him.

“Huh,” Bucky says after he chews and swallows. “You want me to come?”

Steve ponders of a response for a moment, eventually shooting him a grin and saying, “Yeah, it’ll be fun. It’s a fancy dress party, so you gotta dress up.”

Bucky groans, long and loud. “Steeeeeeve,”

“Stop being a drama queen,” Steve grins genuinely now. “You have to, or Sam will give you his ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look and your guilt for letting him down will eat you alive.”

“Fine. I’m open to costume ideas.”

A pause. “You could be a stripper dressed as a police officer.”

Bucky cackles. “Why not just a police officer?”

“That’s too boring.”

“Just a stripper then?”

“Too naked.”

“Pfft, I’d be doing everyone a favour, like a free male lingerie fashion show.”

Steve cocks his head to the side. “What a good samaritan you are.”

Bucky lets out a soft laugh and returns to his food. Only when he’s slurped the last noodle in his container does he turn and point his chopsticks at Steve. “Can a mariachi band consists of only two people? Or should we recruit two more of your friends?”

“What?”

“Mariachi band. Costume ideas. Sam’s party, remember?”

Steve rolls his eyes good naturedly. “Really, that’s what you came up with?”

“Starting a mariachi band is one of the top things in my bucket list, but my musical skills are none to zero, so a pretend mariachi band will have to do.”

“I’m not even going to start listing all the reasons that’s a bad idea,” Steve says, and continues speaking despite Bucky’s sad little ‘But, Steve.’ “Also, I already have a Batman costume I was gonna wear.”

“I could be the Robin to your Batman, then.” Bucky winks at him.

Steve snorts. “Knock yourself out,” he retorts, while a tiny voice in his head starts whimpering like a little kid because does Bucky have any idea what he’s doing to him? Coordinated costumes to a fancy dress party is basically one step away from getting married. And Batman and Robin, really? What’s next, Bert and Ernie?

“Nah, that’s too boring,” Bucky says, and Steve lifts his head to see that he’s scrolling through something on his phone. God, don’t let it be a Pinterest board of couple-costume ideas. “Hah, look at this, it’s Lilo and Stitch. That’s cute.” Bucky shows the screen at Steve and yep, it’s exactly as Steve feared.

“Why do we have to coordinate our costumes anyway?” he asks, pretending to be annoyed. Which, he is, a little, but for different reasons than Bucky might think. He really doesn’t need more people assuming he and Bucky are a couple, which only reminds Steve that they’re not, and he gets a little sad. Just a tiny bit. Mostly, he’s happy to be Bucky’s friend. But...

“Because it’s more fun this way, Steven. We should get Sam to hold a contest, because we’d definitely win.”

Steve hums, unconvinced.

Bucky gasps, eyes widening, an expression of surprised delight on his face. “Fred and Barney!” he exclaims. “From The Flintstones.”

“You want to go dressed as cavemen.” Steve deadpans.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bash you over the head and drag you to my cave,” Bucky grins at him. “We’re modern, civilised men.” He pauses for effect. “That’s what we invented alcohol for.”

Steve is tempted to start rambling about the history of alcohol and all its various uses over the centuries just to ruin it for Bucky, but he simply purses his lips, Miranda Pristley style. Bucky rolls his eyes and continues his search.

“Cosmo and Wanda?”

“Because we’re a couple of fairies?”

“Oh my _God,_ Steve, you’re insufferable.”

“You love me,” Steve says, heading to his fridge to bring them a couple of beers.

Bucky snaps his fingers together as he gets another idea. “Sherlock and Moriarty.”

Steve frowns. “They’re enemies.”

“Enemies with benefits, I think you mean.”

Steve covers his face with a palm and mumbles, “Please stop,” which has Bucky doubled over, giggling uncontrollably.

In the end, Steve accepts Bucky’s idea of going as _Captain America_ (Steve) and the _Winter Soldier_ (Bucky), after listening to a thirty-minute-long analysis of why it’s the perfect couples costume, as Bucky goes on to summarise some 60 years’ worth of comic book series. He talks about it being the perfect love story, with childhood best friends turned enemies, but not real enemies because of the Winter Soldier’s brainwashing, concluding with his concrete belief that the two of them have a solid romance going on and the writers should really pull their heads outta their asses and make it canon already, at which point Steve goes, “Okay, okay, I’m in, _jesus_.”

“Yes!” Bucky punches the air triumphantly. “I had a lot more, but I’m glad to agree.”

“No, I believe you. Really. I’m convinced.”

“Good. Because they’re totally banging.”

Steve turns his gaze heavenwards. Or towards his ceiling. Whatever.

Bucky then runs to his place to get his laptop and starts looking for the perfect costumes for the both of them, while he goes on to talk about the Captain’s various outfits through the years and how not all of them are all that great, and does Steve prefer they go with the war-era get up or the modern world suits?

Steve tells Bucky that he’s good with any of the options, leaving the deciding up to him, since he seems so invested, and watches him fondly while Bucky browses various websites looking for decent costumes to buy or rent. He’s so excited, so passionate about the topic, that Steve finds his enthusiasm endearing, secretly loving the way Bucky’s eyes lights up while he speaks, even if he was giving him shit for his long-winded rambling.

“All done! They will be delivered to my apartment by Friday, just in time for the party.”

Steve glances over his shoulder. “Wow, that’s a bit...pricey, isn’t it?”

“Worth it,” Bucky grins. “I’ve been wanting to do this cosplay for ages, I’m gonna be an awesome Winter Soldier. I even have the hair for it, look,” he says, pulling at the front of his hair to show Steve how long they’ve grown. It’s not exactly long enough but it’ll do. It makes Steve smile again.

“Aw, I had no idea you were such a big nerd, Buck.”

Bucky juts his chin out. “Nerd and Proud.”

  


~~

  


On the day of the party, Bucky knocks on Steve’s front door half an hour earlier than the time they’d agreed to head out to Sam’s house. Steve’s just finished his shower and goes to answer the door while pulling on a simple white t-shirt, hair still wet and dripping on his shoulders and back.

Bucky’s smile slips from his face as soon as Steve opens the door. “You’re not dressed yet?” he demands.

Steve falters for a second. Bucky is barely recognisable. His stubble is thicker than usual, like he hasn’t shaved all week and his hair is a wild mess; pair that with the heavy black eyeliner all around his eyes, and he looks like a completely different person. The all-black leather get up and handmade silver arm with the red star on his shoulder makes him look like he belongs on set of a comic book-to-movie adaptation rather than a fancy dress party.

Bucky must notice how Steve is staring at him, jaw hanging open, because he grins and spins on his heel, giving him a 360-degree view of his outfit. “Good, yes?”

“Yes,” Steve breathes out. “Wow, it’s...amazing,” he reaches out and grasps Bucky’s “metal” bicep before he can think twice and stop himself. “You really made this yourself?”

“I’m a man of many talents, Steve,” Bucky winks at him.

“I’ll say.”

“Come on, go get your ass in costume! We gotta get going!”

Steve turns to head for his bedroom, finally allowing for Bucky to cross his threshold. “We’ve got time still!”

“Yes, but I’m excited!” Bucky yells after him.

Steve doesn’t doubt it. The look of pure delight on his face makes him look like a kid on Christmas morning, eyes shining and that joyful grin that stretches ear to ear. It almost makes it worth it when he wriggles himself in the unbelievably tight and frankly ridiculous Captain America costume. He takes a look at himself in the mirror and cringes.

“I look ridiculous,” Steve declares as he walks down the hallway towards his living room where Bucky is waiting, shifting from foot to foot, unable to contain his excitement.

“No, you don’t, you look-” Bucky stops and eyes him from head to toe. “-great,” he finishes, almost mumbling it to himself.

Steve is still not comfortable. “Red, white, and blue? Really? I mean, even his superhero name, Captain _America.._.how does he ever get taken seriously?”

Bucky’s uncharacteristically silent, never having taken his gaze off Steve, until his eyes flick up to his face and he blinks, startled. “Hm?”

“Are you daydreaming?” Steve teases him, all mock stern and unsmiling, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Bucky makes a small sound at the back of his throat which he attempts to cover with a cough. “You look great, okay? Really. Could’ve been worse, you know, I could’ve given you his stupid _2012 Avengers_ pyjama-outfit but I didn’t, I got you the nice _Civil War_ one, so be grateful.”

Steve sighs, long-suffering, and not budging one bit.

“For your information, Cap is _hot._  And you look just like him! If they ever make the movie, I’ll act as your agent and get you the role, okay?”

“No, thanks,” says Steve, trying to hide his glee at Bucky’s implication that he’s hot. Because that’s pretty much what Bucky said, right? And _okay,_ Steve has seen himself in the mirror, he knows he is conventionally attractive, but it's different when it's _Bucky_ who finds him good-looking.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Steve! You’re forgetting your shield!”

Steve rolls his eyes and goes to fetch it. “Right, another red-white-and-blue prop to make myself look even more patriotic. I’m not putting on the helmet!” he calls out to Bucky, and then realises that the Winter Soldier is supposed to have a mask, and he asks Bucky about it before they head out.

Bucky makes a pitiful face. “It got really hot on my face.”

Steve laughs and puts his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, guiding him out the door. Bucky seems to find this favourable because he smiles and says, “See, you’re getting in character already!” and Steve tells him to shut up before he gets smacked on the head, to which Bucky whispers under his breath that the resemblance is uncanny. Steve gives him a stern look and then tries to hide his smirk.

Sam full on laughs when he sees the pair. “What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks, gesturing at Steve up and down.

“Hey, he’s the one with the eyeliner,” Steve says, jerking his thumb at Bucky.

“It’s war camouflage,” Bucky corrects him, and then goes to hug Sam and wish him a happy birthday.

Steve gets his turn after him, handing Sam the carrier bags with his presents from the both of them. Sam goes to put them away and comes back with a couple of beers for his guests. They’re the first ones to arrive, unsurprisingly, so they help him set up the snacks and finish doing the decorations.

“So, really,” Sam asks, putting a tray of nachos in the oven to melt the cheese. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Captain America,” Steve says drily. “From the comics.”

“Oh my God,” Sam starts laughing again, throwing his head back, shoulders shaking with it. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get nerdier!”

Steve throws some popcorn at him. “It was Bucky’s idea. Also, you’re one to talk, _Aragorn_.”

“For your information, Aragorn is a sexy, badass mother-”

“I heard sexy and badass,” Bucky says then, appearing in the kitchen. “So I assume you guys are talking about me.”

Sam snorts sarcastically. “No offense man, but you’re giving off more of a ‘murder you in a dark alley’ vibe right now.”

“Hey!” Bucky protests. “What part of this isn’t badass and sexy?” he asks, curling up his left arm, which shines in the fluorescent light. “Steve, tell Sam my metal arm is badass and sexy.”

“His metal arm is badass and sexy, Sam.” Steve says, tone dry and facial expression completely unimpressed, making the man laugh. “Anyway, where is your Arwen?”

“Stuck in traffic,” Sam pouts slightly. “So I’ll have to put up with you guys until she gets here.”

It’s not until halfway through the party, when all the guests have arrived and everyone’s having a good time, munching on the delicious snacks Sam has made and consuming increasingly large amounts of alcohol, that Sam corners him in the hallway, apparently having found out about the Cap-and-Soldier situation and their latent homoerotic feelings for each other.

“He got so excited about it, I couldn’t say no,” Steve shrugs.

Sam gives him a look. “Did the fact that you are not in fact a couple escape your attention? And is there something you could perhaps do to amend that?”

Steve shrugs again, and Sam drops it, making vague threats to sic Natasha on him later on. Steve doesn’t take him too seriously, especially since Nat is currently too pre-occupied dancing and flirting with a pretty blonde to become involved in Steve’s relationships - or lack thereof. Bucky, on the other hand, is making his way around the room, having to explain his costume more often than not.

Steve’s busy browsing through Sam’s music library (because Sam likes him enough to let him choose a song every now and again) when Bucky appears, handing him a new bottle of cold beer.

“You having fun?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, shooting him a little grin. “You were right about our costumes being too obscure for anyone to get it. Well, mine, at least.”

“Hold on, back up. Did you just say I was right about something?” Steve teases him, and receives a punch to his shoulder in response.

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Hey, I still maintain that we have the best costumes in here.”

“That’s your subjective opinion,” Steve says, raising his bottle to subtly point towards Maria. “And debatable.”

She sees him then and smiles as she makes her way over to them. She really does look ethereal, Steve thinks, with her long, pale dress and the simple, yet elegant circlet on her head, so similar to the character yet beautiful in her own way.

Maria greets him with a hug, saying, “Long time no see, Steven. Where have you been?” Then she turns to Bucky and smiles knowingly and says, “Aha, don't answer that.”

Steve introduces them to each other and Maria looks between the two of them and says, “Captain America and the Winter Soldier, right?”

“Someone gets it!” Bucky cries out excitedly.

“Nah, Sam told me.” Maria catches Steve’s eye and smirks at him before she casually asks, “So how have you guys been dating?”

Steve, knowing that she’s playing him, manages to hold his composure. Bucky, on the other hand, sputters a bit and tells her that no, they’re not dating, they’re just friends, and neighbours, and cooking partners.

“Really?” she cocks her head to the side, looking disbelieving.

“Yup,” Steve smiles at her, tight-lipped. Maria simply hums and takes a sip from her cocktail, and then her Aragorn comes to drag her away for a dance.

Bucky turns to face Steve, and his cheeks look pink even in the dim lighting. “So...that keeps happening.”

Steve suddenly wishes he had a stronger drink in his hand. “Yup,” he finishes his beer and goes to fetch them another round. When he returns, it’s to see that Bucky is in the middle of a heated argument with a guy who’s dressed like a particularly douchey vampire.

“Maybe you can pull your head out of your ass and try to see it from another person’s perspective!”

Douchey vampire makes a sarcastic face, as if to say, _dude, come on_. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Steve squares his shoulders as he approaches them, instinctively putting a hand on the small of Bucky’s back, inching closer to him. “What’s going on?” he asks, placing the drinks on a nearby corner table.

“We’re having a minor disagreement regarding the relationship of certain comic book characters,” Bucky tells him, voice calm, though there’s anger in his eyes.

“Oh, good,” Steve mumbles sarcastically.

“Man, I’m just telling you what the canon is.”

“Which could change at any point,” Bucky turns his head to look at Steve. “Brock here doesn’t think that the good ol’ fashioned Captain America could be _queer_.”

Steve does not have time for this. He slips his arm around Bucky’s waist and simply says, “Actually, I am.”

And then he’s curling a hand around Bucky’s neck and bringing him closer as he leans in, pressing his mouth to Bucky’s. It’s meant to be a chaste kiss, a mere brush of lips, but then Bucky opens his mouth just a little and Steve slides his lips so that they’re locked with Bucky’s own, soft, warm ones. The douchey vampire shouts out a disgusted ‘Christ!’ before he stomps off, but Steve barely registers all that, because Bucky is still kissing him and all of Steve’s senses have zeroed in on him; the tight grip where he’s curling his hands around either of Steve’s biceps, the heat of his body, inching closer to Steve’s, the rough tickle of his stubble against Steve’s jaw, the wet slide of their tongues as the kiss deepens, a new hint of urgency in it.

They break apart when the need for air becomes too much and simply stare at each other for a moment, panting, their breaths mingling together.

“Sorry,” Steve breathes when he’s gathered his wits long enough to form a sentence. “Just wanted to um, make a point.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, not breaking his gaze. “Ended that argument pretty quickly.”

Steve huffs a laugh, and then all the lights in the room go out and people start singing _happy birthday_ as Maria comes out with the cake, and they’re saved from the potential awkwardness of the aftermath of their impromptu kiss.

  


~~

  


Wanda shows up to their ninth cooking lesson with her long hair styled into a side fishtail braid - which Steve knows because Natasha had made him learn it when they’d first met and to this day makes him braid her hair in that style  - and announces that the dish of the day is oven-baked salmon with mixed wild rice and asparagus. Steve doesn’t fail to make the connection and laughs quietly to himself, oddly endeared by the young chef. He thinks he’s starting to think of her as the little sister he never had, which might be weird considering she is their cooking instructor, but whatever.

“Cooking salmon in this way is so easy, you will be surprised,” says Wanda, hints of an accent still evident in her voice. “All you need is some basic seasoning, salt and pepper and a little bit of oil. The trick is that you have to be careful not to overcook it, or it will be dry. But it’s a very easy, fancy meal to make, for a nice dinner date or something,” she adds, waggling her fingers dismissively.

They follow her instructions to prepare the salmon before it goes in the oven, and Steve sprinkles some more salt before he starts rubbing it on all sides of his fillets. Bucky reaches over and helps him out, but ends up disturbing him more than anything, his fingers nudging against Steve’s and not letting him do his job properly. Steve lets out an exaggerated sigh and looks up at Bucky, who bites his lip and grins, very obviously trying to stifle a laugh. He meets Steve in the eye and a little bubble of laughter escapes his mouth before he presses his lips into a thin line.

They move on to make the sides, and Steve finds himself doing most of the work while Bucky hovers nearby, standing too close to him. He doesn’t mind it, not really, except his mind is treacherous and keeps reminding him of that kiss they shared at Sam’s birthday part only two days ago, and it’s even harder to focus on the task at hand. Especially when Bucky peers over his shoulder while Steve tries to focus when adding water to the rice, then crinkles his nose when Steve is sauteeing the asparagus and declares that there’s no way he’s eating that.

Steve rolls his eyes and calls him a child.

“What? It makes your pee smell bad.”

Steve bursts out in laughter, doubling over, with one hand on the counter to keep himself from falling right to the floor, he’s laughing so hard. Naturally, they cause enough of a ruckus to alert the rest of the classroom, who are now zeroing in on them, asking what’s so funny.

Bucky blinks innocently. “I just said that I don’t wanna eat the asparagus ‘cause it makes your pee smell bad.”

There’s a few chuckles and some exasperated shakes of head from the other couples. Wanda rolls her eyes at them, though she’s grinning fondly. “You boys certainly brighten up this class.”

Their meal comes out better than Steve had expected. The salmon is cooked perfectly, and though their rice is a bit sticky, it tastes good. The asparagus is also tasty, nevermind that Bucky sticks it in his fridge and won’t let Steve eat it. Not that he’s too bothered by that, he just finds it amusing and pretends to tolerate Bucky’s antics.

The recommendation for their meal is white wine, and while Bucky says he’s got half a bottle in his fridge already, they stop by the liquor store where he buys two more. Steve gives him a look, eyebrow raised skeptically.

“You tryin’ to get me drunk or something?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s wine. It’s good for you!”

“I think that’s red wine, actually.”

“Pish posh.”

Bucky sets the table at his apartment, bringing out two white, fancy looking dinner plates and two wine glasses, even finding a small tealight candle from one his kitchen drawers and placing it in the centre of the table before lighting it up. Steve watches him move around with a small smile on his face.

“No single rose?” he teases.

“What, the candle not romantic enough for you?” Bucky grins at him. “Fancy salmon meal needs a fancy dinner setting.”

“Sure,” Steve’s smile widens when Bucky pulls out one of the chairs, offering him a seat before he goes and sits down opposite him. He pours them both wine and picks up his glass, proposing a toast. “To us.”

If Steve didn’t know better, he’d think Bucky is trying to seduce him. But he does know better, and he resolutely ignores the twinge in his chest as he raises his glass and clinks it with Bucky’s. “To us,” he repeats and takes a big sip, gaze locked with Bucky’s.

They eat their dinner in relative silence, making casual conversation now and again, talking in hushed tones. Bucky praises Steve in doing a good job with their meal, to which Steve replies, ‘Yeah, no thanks to you,’ and Bucky simply grins at him in response, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He’s wearing a soft-looking pink and white flannel shirt over a white t-shirt, and those tight black denims that make Steve’s mouth water. There’s a light stubble across his jaw, and his piercing blue eyes are staring straight into Steve’s, making him forget how to breathe for a moment.

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky asks in a whisper.

Steve snaps out of his daze and nods, focusing back on his plate. There’s something electrifying about the whole atmosphere, making his stomach swoop with nerves, but the exciting, thrilling kind. But Bucky...everything about him is _warm_ and _soft_ , and Steve can’t help but wish he could wrap himself around the man and spend the rest of the evening cuddling him.

It might be the wine talking. Steve takes another sip, draining his glass, and Bucky fills it again.

“You wanna head to the couch?” he asks, getting to his feet, when they’re both done eating.

“Dishes first?”

“Nah,” Bucky shakes his head. “I’ll do them later. Go take a seat, I’ll be right there.”

The candle gets blown out, and instead, Bucky turns on a couple of small lamps to illuminate the room just enough so they’re not sitting in the complete darkness. Everything about the evening screams _date night_ to Steve. Except…except it's not.

He must be reading it all wrong.

Bucky passes him his wine glass and places a new bottle on the coffee table before he curls up on his favourite armchair, glass in hand. They drink in silence for a while. Normally at this point they’d put a movie on or find something half-decent to watch on TV, except that’s the last thing Steve wants to do right now. He’s enjoying himself, even with all the mixed signals that make him all tingly.

They finish the new bottle sooner than later and Steve feels more than a little tipsy. Judging by the way Bucky keeps giggling, he’s probably just as inebriated.

“You know what game I miss?”

Steve hums questioningly, stretching his legs out on the sofa.

“Spin the bottle,” Bucky says with another giggle.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, it’s awesome. Watching your friends kiss each other awkwardly is always fun.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Don’t think I’ve ever played it actually.”

“I’m sorry, did you _go_ to high school or did you just skip right through that and become a full-functioning adult?”

“I went to high school, but I wasn’t invited to the cool kids’ parties all that often.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, right. Anyway, you’re missing out. We should get our friends together and play, oh man, that would be fun. Hey,” he perks up suddenly. “We should play right now!”

Steve’s heart somersaults in his chest. Does Bucky even realise what he’s saying, the implications of it? He keeps a straight face as he says, “Buck, there’s just two of us. Not enough people to make a circle.”

“Okay, so spin the bottle and truth or dare. Come on,” he gets up from the armchair and drops by Steve’s feet on the couch. “We do have an empty bottle.”

“Again, there’s only two of us. The bottle is redundant.” Steve sits up a little so he’s at eye-level with the man. “I’ll go first. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,”

It takes Steve three minutes to come up with something good. “Send a selfie to a stranger.”

Bucky gives him a look. “Lame.”

“Oh, I meant naked.” Steve grins. “Did I not mention that? Naked from the waist up. Oh, and in the bathroom mirror.”

Bucky grumbles a little about how douchey that is, and Steve tells him at least it’s not a dick pic to a girl he barely knows, and that shuts him up pretty quickly. When it’s Steve’s turn, he picks truth.

“You mentioned you’ve been kicked out of class before,” Bucky smirks at him. “What was the reason?”

Steve snorts. “Which time,” he mumbles, before he goes on to tell the stories in chronological order. “I got caught doodling in my English textbook, which should not have warranted sending me to the principal’s but I always thought Mr. Rickelman hated me. Second time, I was arguing with our very Catholic Biology teacher, and honestly, she could not have won that argument any other way, so her solution was making me go stand in the hall until class was over.”

Bucky laughs. “Aren’t _you_ Catholic?”

“Yes, but I’m also gay.”

Bucky laughs harder. “Was there a third time?”

“Punk-ass football jock was bothering my friend, so I squirted oil paint to his face. It was technically before class started but Mrs. Altman sent me to the principal’s and I almost got suspended.”

“Wow, that’s pretty wild. Most scandalous thing I did in high school was try a cigarette.”

“Huh. I’ve never tried one.”

“You’re not missing out, it was awful.” Bucky tilts his head, looking at Steve curiously. “But really, you’ve never been curious?”

Steve shakes his head. “Childhood asthma,” he says as way of explanation. Bucky nods and they lapse into silence again.

“Is it my turn again?”

Steve nods.

“Truth.”

“What’s your guilty pleasure?”

“What makes you think I have one?”

“We all have one,” Steve nudges him with his foot.

Bucky looks at him for a long moment and then grins widely. “Does Britney Spears count?”

Steve bursts into laughter. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but that was not it. “I suppose it could count, yeah.”

“You should see me sing Toxic. Karaoke bar one night, you and me, deal?”

“Sure, but I can’t sing to save my life.”

“Then you’ll just watch me and cheer me on. I can even do the wig changes. It’s not a show you wanna miss,” Bucky winks at him. “So what’s yours? Your guilty pleasure.”

Steve shrugs. “Nude portraits?”

“Of yourself?” Bucky asks, eyes wide.

“What? No! Some ex-girlfriends, boyfriends. I’m an artist, okay, I enjoy drawing the human form.”

“I have a feeling that’s not your actual guilty pleasure. But okay, I won’t pressure you into telling me. I’ll coax it out of you somehow,” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Steve feels his face heat up. “Oh yeah? How will you do that, I wonder?”

Bucky glances down at his lap, biting on his bottom lip. He looks up at Steve a second later, peering at him through his eyelashes. His voice, when he speaks, is much quieter, lower, almost husky. “I have my ways.”

Steve’s mouth goes dry. The atmosphere between them is heavy, charged with sexual tension. All he can think of is a picture of those same eyes, giving him that same look, while that beautiful pink mouth that’s currently smirking at him is stretched wide around his cock, sucking him down.

He clears his throat and gets to his feet. “I should go. Work tomorrow and all.”

Bucky nods and gets up to see him to the door. Steve steps outside but turns around before he leaves, wanting to thank Bucky for having him over. Instead he stops and stares at him, and Bucky stares right back at him, his gaze intense, almost hungry, if not a little wistful. Like he doesn’t want Steve to leave.

Steve shifts forward without even realising it. He leans in, just a tiny bit and to his surprise, Bucky does too. There’s only a few inches in the gap between them. Steve feels Bucky’s breath ghosting over his mouth, and then, suddenly, Bucky’s lips are on his, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his mouth.

They each pull back and look at each other again. Frustrated with the mixed signals, Steve exhales deeply and whispers, “Pick truth.”

Bucky swallows hard, eyes widening slightly, making him look small and vulnerable. “Truth,” he says, tone matching Steve’s.

“Why’d you try to set me up with someone else?”

Bucky’s mouth is wobbling. He looks almost shy, or embarrassed, when he says, “I didn’t want to be your rebound guy.”

Steve kisses him. He steps forward, looping his arms around Bucky’s waist and pulling him closer, licks his way into Bucky’s mouth when it falls open with a surprised gasp. “Not a rebound,” Steve is breathing heavily when they break apart. “You could never be just a rebound, Bucky, no way.”

Bucky laughs, and it sounds like it’s been startled out of him, his mouth forming a grin against Steve’s. He steps backwards until they’re back in his apartment and slams the door shut before pushing Steve against it and surging in for another kiss.

“Steve,” Bucky whines, his hands on the collar of Steve’s shirt, unbuttoning it so he can get his mouth on Steve’s neck, his collarbone, his chest, like he can’t get enough of him, doesn’t want to wait a second longer to get his hands on Steve.

Steve throws his head back, his hands firm on Bucky’s hips, having slipped under his shirt and rubbing circles over his hipbones with his thumbs. “Bucky,” he moans, a low, rough sound. He grips Bucky even harder and nudges him back slightly, only to look him in the eye when he asks, “Bedroom?”

Bucky nods and pulls him away. When they make it there, they’re already half-undressed, falling into bed together while they’re still kissing, a wet, messy tangle of tongues and teeth scraping against bare skin.

“Steve,” Bucky says, straddling him. “Believe me when I say this, I have been longing for your cock since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Steve remembers that day. He’d been sick again, because he has the worst immune system in the tri-state area, and he’d gone to give Bucky some mail that had been accidentally delivered to him. He’d been a red-nosed, snuffling mess, slightly stunned by the gorgeous new neighbor and tripping over his words, like the awkward human disaster that he is.

“Really?” he asks, breathless.

Bucky nods, smiling at him, something playful yet soft in his eyes. “I bet it’s as beautiful as the rest of you,” he whispers.

Steve is speechless, which is a good thing because Bucky’s kissing him again, while his hands make easy work of unbuckling Steve’s belt. He hooks a finger under the waistband of Steve’s boxers and pauses for a moment. “May I?”

Steve nods and within moments, he’s naked on Bucky’s bed, watching the brunet get rid of the last of his own clothing before he climbs back on the bed. Bucky grins at Steve, bright and beautiful, then goes straight for his dick. Mouth-first.

Steve sees stars. The things Bucky does with his mouth, the way he sucks his cock with that sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm makes Steve's head spin, and he doesn't last as long as he'd have liked. Bucky looks positively smug about that, so Steve flips him on his back and gives him a taste of his own medicine.

It's nothing like he'd imagined, because he'd thought plenty about it; in the shower, stuck in traffic jams, in the goddamn classroom while his students were taking a test and he'd let his mind wander a little too much. But experiencing it is so much better than fantasizing about it.

Steve savors every moment, memorizes every sound that falls off Bucky's mouth, the way his name sounds when Bucky moans it; he maps every inch of Bucky's bare skin with his mouth, revels in the slick slide of their bodies, the way their mouths find each other to kiss and kiss and kiss while their bodies connect, becoming one. He watches Bucky fall apart underneath him, then rock himself to oblivion on top of him, riding him slow and steady, yet they both keep wanting more and more. There's no rush in their movements, but there's a hunger, a yearning which is only satisfied when they're both utterly and blissfully spent.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers when he stirs awake, having drifted off for a little post-coital nap.

Steve grunts in response but doesn't move.

“I have to confess something,” Bucky props an arm up to support his head on it. “Wake up.”

Steve swats his hand away after the third time Bucky pokes him and lifts his head from where he'd buried it under the pillow. “What.”

“Is that how you speak to your lover? I'm appalled.”

“My sweetheart, what do you wish to tell me? Please speak your mind, I'm all ears.”

Bucky giggles and leans in to press a quick kiss to his nose. “I had a crush on Captain America as a teenager,” he says, biting on his lip nervously.

“Oh, really, I would've never guessed.”

“When you kissed me at the party…”

Steve grins, feeling a little smug. He rolls on his back to lie down again. “Was it like your wildest dreams come true?”

“And then some.” Bucky blushes a deep scarlet.

“May I remind you that it was your idea to put me in that costume?”

“It was a _fantastic_ idea.”

A moment of silence passes before Steve speaks again. “You're gonna make me wear it to bed one day, aren't you?”

The little whine that escapes Bucky's mouth gives him away, and Steve laughs out loud, reaches out to pull him close. “Maybe if you behave.”

They spend the night at Bucky's place and in the morning they call in sick at work and move across the hall to Steve's apartment, and spend the majority of the day naked and in bed. They make breakfast at noon, spend a few hours half-watching whatever’s on TV, cuddling under blankets on Steve’s tiny couch, which only makes them squish together even more.

Steve grabs Bucky by the hand and drags him to the shower sometime in the late afternoon, saying he feels gross and they both need to wash themselves rather urgently. In retrospect, he thinks it may not have been that good of an idea, because they spend over an hour in the shower and use up all the hot water. Steve jumps out, leaving Bucky to finish up, and heads to his bedroom and sits on the armchair where he piles his clothes, leaning his head against the back of it.

His eyes are closed, but he hears Bucky come in, an instinctive smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“Hey,” Bucky says, walking towards him. “Is this seat taken?”

Steve opens his eyes to see Bucky grinning, eyes shining with unspilled laughter, and pointing directly at his lap. He raises an eyebrow. “We literally just showered.”

Bucky giggles and drops his towel before he climbs into his lap, and Steve is thankful for his own towel around his waist while his dick twitches with interest. Bucky cups his cheeks and kisses him, warm and soft and slow. “I like you,” he grins, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“I think that's your dick talking,” Steve tells him, placing his hands on Bucky’s hips, relishing the feel of warm, bare skin under his grip.

“No. I have a heart boner for you.”

Steve snorts. “I have a heart boner for you, too.”

They kiss again and break apart with content sighs, and Bucky looks at him, face softening. “I do really like you. A lot. I’m glad I waited to jump your bones.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. When I found you were newly single I thought…”

“You thought what?” Steve prompts him, smiling at the way Bucky seems shy, for all he’s sat naked on Steve’s lap.

“Well, that it’d be easy to get in your pants.”

“I think I’m offended.”

Bucky shrugs. “It’s happened before. Guys get all sad and drunk and want to fuck the first person they come across.”

“Okay, I’m definitely offended.” Steve says, trying to keep a straight face. It’s not like _he_ hadn’t had a wide variety of not-so-innocent thoughts about Bucky, and it had been a mostly physical attraction, in the beginning. Bucky whines, lips forming a sad pout, and Steve can’t help but laugh. “I’m just messing with you,” he accentuates that by pressing a gentle kiss to Bucky’s mouth.

“Good, because what I’m trying to say is that this...” he gestures between them. “It was worth the wait.”

Steve sighs, thinking about all the heated looks, lingering touches, almost-kisses, the teasing, the flirting, the bickering, that one not-so-fake kiss, everything that led up to the moment when they reached out for each other, open and honest and yearning for the other, and thinks, yeah, it was. He says so as much, watches the corners of Bucky’s eyes crinkle as he smiles and abruptly gets to his feet, picking Bucky up with him and making the few steps to the bed before they both fall on it in a heap of laughter.

They’ll probably need another shower later on.

 

 

~~

  


The following Monday, they drive to their last cooking class together and walk in the building hand in hand, heads turned to face each other while Bucky makes a dumb joke and Steve laughs and kisses him.

Which is why they don't notice Angie Martinelli until she claps her hands excitedly, grinning ear to ear.

“This is so great! I'm so happy for you, but also for me, because I totally called it. Darling, come over here, let's arrange a double date!”

 

 


End file.
